


Dear Soldier

by Trenchcoatangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate universe-1940s, Angst, Death, Denial, Depression, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hate Crime, Heartache, Homophobic Language, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Lawyer Sam, Letters, M/M, Memories, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Homophobia, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Profound Bond, Redemption, Secrets, Soldier Dean, Student Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, WWII, drug ussage, homophopia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trenchcoatangels/pseuds/Trenchcoatangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester doesn't expect much in the way of care packages from his family. His father hates him and his little brother is at Stanford University, going to school and making a better life for himself. He won't burden him with the woes of war. Imagine his surprise when he does get a package, with a book, a pack of cigarettes, socks and a handwritten letter addressed "Dear Soldier." </p><p>What starts off as a simple college assignment for one student, turns into the love affair of a lifetime, as Dean Winchester  and Castiel Novak discover each other and themselves through the letters they write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude: The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> -do not copy and paste elsewhere  
> -I own nothing but my OC's and the storyline  
> -update regularly  
> -please read tags  
> -enjoy  
> -comments and kudos appreciated

September 7, 1942

Dear Soldier, 

Hello. My name is Castiel James Novak. I'm a twenty two year old student at Berkeley University in California. I hope to be a pediatrician one day as I have a fondness for children. I apologize for my forwardness, I just supposed you'd like to know who's written you. 

I hope all is well for you. I cannot say I know what it's like or I understand how you feel, I have never been in war nor do I know much about it besides the, blood, guts and glory everyone raves about. I suppose it's not all true and I pray you haven't been hurt in combat, and if you have I hope you get better. 

I've included my address, this care package was apart of an assignment for class, but I figured if you had no one to write or talk to you could write me back, that way you have at least one person, and if you don't write back I'll know you are very much loved. 

The rest of this package includes socks, chocolate, two packs of Marlboros, a copy of The Great Gatsby (I apologize if you hate it or don't like to read. It's one of my favorites and I recommend it to everyone) a pair of insulated gloves and this letter. I hope to hear from you and I pray for your safe return. 

Your new friend, 

Castiel J Novak

~1982~ (40 years later)

"Hey Grandpa!" Cas lifted his head, the sound of little feet padding toward him. His wife, Meg, chuckled at the kitchen sink as Dean, their only grandson, ran into Cas's arms. 

"What's up squirt?" Cas asked, ruffling the young boy's hair. Dean smiled up at him, it made Cas's heart clench, the smile was like a ghost, he swallowed hard, stuffing the feelings down into the pit of his stomach. Dean held up an old, yellowed piece of paper in front of Cas's face. 

"I found this in your foot locker grandpa! Who's the soldier?" Castiel's heart caught in his throat. He looked from Dean to the paper and back to Dean. 

"Here son, let me see that." Reluctantly, the five year old handed him the letter. Cas's eyes scanned the withered pages, surprise washing over him. He thought he'd lost this. 

"Cas?" Meg asked, alarmed at the paleness in her husband's face. She leaned over his shoulder, trying to get a good look at the scrawl on the notebook pages. "Cas what's wrong?" He shook his head, a storm of emotions whirling within him. He bit his lip, bowed his head and pushed Dean off his lap gently. The child looked up in fear, worries that he's hurt his papa or some something wrong. 

"Grandpa I'm sorry." Cas shook his head. Smiling down at Dean and patting his head. 

"No honey, Grandpa just needs sometime alone. You're fine." Cas moved to walk out of the kitchen, Meg grabbed his arm, wrapping her fingers around his bicep gently. He couldn't look her in the eye, instead he stared at the wallpaper peeling in the corner, he needed to fix that. 

"Cas? Darling are you-" he raised his hand, shrugging her off. He got in these moods sometimes, moments when he just wanted to be alone, wanted to think. She understood this, nodded and turned back to Dean, "how bout a pie Dean? You can help me make it."

"Ooh yay! I love pie." Cas didn't hear the rest as he staggered towards his workshop in the garage. 

He was a wood carver now, amongst many other things, he liked the hard work, but he'd be lying if he said that was the only reason he did it. Sometimes if he used the right kind of wood he could smell him, faintly, but it was there. 

Dean. Dean Winchester. 

His soldier. The love of his life. 

He closed the door to the garage and went to his footlocker, it was open, nothing really disturbed or touched, it seemed that Dean had only grabbed the first thing he could find. Cas sat in front of it, placing the letter back inside, he instead lifted an old leather jacket. It was worn and faded with time, but Cas held it to his nose and inhaled, tears springing to his eyes and memories flooding his mind, photographs of the brief life he'd shared with Dean. He took a shaky breath and buried his face in the comforting leather. 

"I swear to God Dean....I swear..." He clutched the jacket close to his chest and let his memories take him away. 

It was fall, 1942 and he was in his final year of school....


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know a lot about soldiers and war, as you'll notice. I'm just going where this story takes me. I have a really good feeling about it. I apologize if it seems a little slow. I want to get the settings established and a good feel for the characters. Thank you for taking the time to read this. You won't be disappointed I promise. Thank you!

"As you know, our brave young men are out fighting for our country and ensuring our safety. What with Pearl Harbor and that ghastly business with Adolf Hitler our troops have their work cut out for them..." Castiel tuned in and out of the lecture, doodling on a piece of paper. The only reason he took this humanities class was because it was required coursework for his major. He sighed, drawing another group of diamonds on the page of his notebook, as professor Green spoke, "so for. Your midterm assignment I want each of you to create and send out a care package. But, it can't be to anyone you know. You must send it to a random soldier and write them a letter entitled 'Dear Soldier.' You can tell them anything you like and send anything appropriate. I would like to see your packages before you ship them, if I deem them appropriate you get an Half the grade. When you ship them you get the rest." 

The class groaned, slightly annoyed at the extra coursework. Castiel sighed heavily, thinking of the tediousness of it. He had so many other responsibilities and priorities, writing a letter to a random soldier wasn't something he was too interested in. 

"Class dismissed." Chairs flew back and the noise in the room tripled as students filed out, chattering about what they would send and what they would say. Castiel packed slowly, always choosing to wait until the hoard left the doorway open. 

"Hey," he looked up to see his girlfriend, Hannah, standing next to his desk, a broad smile on her face. He took her in. She wore a black knit sweater and a grey pencil skirt that went just to her ankles, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but her bangs swept gently over her forehead. She was beautiful and he felt lucky as hell. He leaned over and kissed her softly. It'd been her choice to sit on the other side of the room, so he couldn't distract her. She reached up, adjusting his wire rimmed glasses with a smile. 

"Hello to you too." She grinned and handed her books to him, taking his free hand as the left the classroom. 

"So what do you think of the assignment?" She asked as they made their way across the quad. The sun was high in the sky and the air in seasonably warm, the last gusts of summer pushing forward before the cool fall weather took over. Castiel loved fall. It was his favorite season. Castiel shook his head. 

"It seems a bit unreasonable to me...the soldiers have families to send them care packages and the like. Why do we have to do it when there's so many other things going on in our lives." Hannah tsked, shaking her head as well, her thumb tracing over the knuckles of Castiel's hand. He shivered at her touch. 

"Not every soldier has a family Castiel...and right now is our time to show our pride in this country. Sending letters is the least we could do. You never know, your letter could be the only one a soldier ever receives." Castiel pursed his lips, unable to think of a retort. Hannah smiled, kissing his cheek in triumph. "Just fill the requirements and send the package darling. Then it's off your hands and you still maintain your grade point average." Castiel chuckled, he still didn't want to do the assignment, but it was better to suffer silently in his opinion. 

"I suppose you're right." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "How bout Harvelle's for lunch? Been a long time since we are there." She nodded. 

"Sounds good."

~0~0~

It always rained. The sky was always great and clouded and the rain never ceased. Dean flicked the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table. The sound of soldiers chatting and rough housing filling his ears. The barracks were small and cramped, he longed for space and a place to walk without fear of enemy fire. 

A letter from Sam, his younger brother, sat open in front of it. He'd skimmed the passages, not really reading it for fear of a break down. Dean longed for home. Loved to see his brother and longed to feel safe. But the war wasn't over and he wouldn't be going home until it was. So he skimmed the letters and wrote brief replies, choosing to live a life of 'it can't hurt if you don't know." He knew Sam was probably sad and hurt by his actions, but it was the only way Dean could carry on. Shove it all down and drink another beer. 

"Hey Winchester." Dean's eyes flickered from the window to the man now sitting across from him. Buck was his name, or at least what everyone called him. He was a scraggly boy, no older than eighteen, with big brown eyes and curly brown hair he kept a shaved down. He slid a beer across the table to Dean and popped the top on his own. "Another letter from San?" Buck gestured to the open mail on the table. Dean shrugged indifferently, taking a big swig of the bitter alcohol. 

"Yeah, says he's doin real well in school."

"That's good. Real good."

"Yeah." A comfortable silence fell over the two. They had that sort of camaraderie, being able to hold a conversation without talking. They just got each other. 

Lightning strikes across the sky and the rain began to pour, smacking against the roof of the barracks and splashing hard on the ground. Thunder clapped, reminding Dean of how small he really was. He leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer gingerly. 

"You ever get letters from a girl back home?" The question was random, out of the blue and thrown into the open. Dean could respond if he wanted but it wasn't required. He picked at a scab on his arm, before picking up another cigarette and lighting it. 

"Nah."

"How come?" He turned then, looking Buck in the eye. The kid still had that innocence, that hope that somebody loved him. Some girl, high school sweetheart no doubt, was waiting devotedly at home for him. Dean decided not to tell him she was probably screwing every Tom Dick and Harry on the block. He broke eye contact and turned back to the window, staring sadly at the rain. He wished with all his heart it would let up.

"Cuz ain't nobody willing to wait on a guy like me." Buck opened his mouth to speak again. 

"What'd-"

"Winchester! Sanders!" The two stood immediately, turning away from the window to salute Admiral Braughn. An older man, with a long thin scar that went from under his eye, over the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek. Dean hated looking at him, it reminded him of what could happen every time he stepped into the field. 

"Sir!" They shouted together, standing at attention. Admiral Braughn nodded to them, grimacing at the stench of cigarette smoke. He hated those things. 

"At ease men. Your platoon is being deployed to North Africa. Pack your bags and be ready to go in 1800 hours. Your Squadron leader will give you the rest of the details before you leave. Good luck." The boys saluted their Admiral once more before he turned on his heel and stalked off. 

Dean went back to the table to grab the letter from Sam and his cigarettes. Buck followed, like a lost puppy. Dean was the only one that didn't make fun of him for being so much smaller than some of the other men. Dean treated him like a person. 

"What do you think it'll be like Dean? I've never been to Africa before." Dean tucked the letter into his pocket and put his cigarette out in the tray. Suddenly the rain didn't bother him so much. He turned and clapped Buck on the shoulder, nearly knocking the younger man off balance. 

"If I learned anything in geography class, it's that Africa is hot and dry. Better enjoy that rain while you can."

~0~0~

Castiel crumpled another piece of paper and threw it into the wastebasket. He ran his fingers through his hair and huffed with frustrated. 

He didn't know what to write. He didn't know anyone who was in the war, at least no one close and personal, he only had one sibling, a little sister named Claire. His father had died when they were young and his mother certainly wasn't a soldier. 

He had the highest grade point average in the school, top of the Dean's list and would be Valedictorian of their college, but he couldn't write a fucking letter. 

Brilliant. Great work. 

Getting items forge care package hadn't been a problem. He bought socks, insulated gloves, chocolate, cigarettes and added a copy of his favorite book, just in case the soldier that got his package had down time. He couldn't be certain though. But sitting down to write a letter to a stranger. That was harder than it sounded. 

He glared at the blank page in front of him once more. So many things flooding his mind. He could say hello, but would that be too cordial? He could say hey, but that might be too friendly. He placed his head on the desk and groaned. It was late and he'd been at it for hours, but the sooner he got it done, the sooner he could focus on his other studies. 

He lifted his head, the clock read 10:52, he licked his lips and took a deep breath, pressing the pen to the paper once more. 

"Dear Soldier,

Hello, my name is Castiel James Novak..." He smiled as he wrote the words, they felt right, they felt like him. Not too formal but not to relaxed, just right. 

He finished the letter within an hour.


End file.
